


Real champions don't need a cup

by orphan_account



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Argentina, Argentina National Team, FIFA World Cup 2014, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-17
Updated: 2014-07-17
Packaged: 2018-02-09 06:05:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1971714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Gago finds out that he is going to play with Marcos Rojo as selection mate, he has a slightly new feeling, not completly understanding what happens to him. With time and while the victories increase, also this feeling is increased<br/>What is happening to  him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Real champions don't need a cup

**Author's Note:**

> A friend of mine translated this, so, sorry if there are mistakes, english is not our first lenguage  
> Hope you've enjoyed it n.n

He couldn't see him like that, he just couldn't.  
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When Sabella posted the list, Fernando smiled. He had been somehow sure about his participation, and at the end he had participated and won with the team many times, though it was the first time he would do it in a not-sub-20 world cup. But one never knows, this new trainer seemed like a real retailer, one that would lead them to victory.

He saw Marcos Rojo in the list, he remembered him; they had played in 2011's American Cup together, even though it ended with the bitter delusion of losing in final quarters when they were the local team, he had showed off to many players’ potential. He wasn't sure why he had put his eyes on him, maybe it was because his participation had surprised him somehow. Yet it still didn't make sense, the entry of Enzo Perez and the walkout of Ever Banega were way more remarkable, why was this catching his attention? 

He felt as if something weird was happening, something was missing. He decided to ignore it, at least for a while.

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Gago was definitely not the smartest nor the most talented guy. The position he had reached was the product of tons of effort and dedication; playing in Boca wasn't dishonorable for him, in fact he felt proud he was the only one in the group who still played in Argentina, it made him feel more patriotic somehow.

That wasn't what mattered. Gago, in fact, wasn't really smart, as I said before, but he knew something was happening. He couldn't point it with his finger and it was starting to bother him. 

They were training, he could hear Pachorra yelling something to Lavezzi in the distance, but he wasn't paying too much attention. If Sabella kept yelling at him he would've end by having his throat sore, he understood that if they kept playing like that "Even Bosnia would fuck them", the trainer had literally said that, but was it really necessary to scream?

 

He was running as faster as he could, seeing if he could escape the screams that tormented his partners.

-Dude, be careful... Fer... Fer! - Messi screamed trying to catch his attention. It was useless; he was way too submersed in his thoughts. He didn't see that Demichelis was in front of him stopping. He ended up bumping against him and then falling on his back. He felt way too ashamed, he didn't had any time to stand up before a hand offered to help him with the deal. 

-Whoa, you were really absentminded- Marcos laughed giving him a hand to help him stand up. Gago quickly accepted it and he stood up. 

\- I was gone, -He joined to the laughs- Sorry, Martin.

-It's fine. -Demichelis smiled at him and kept running.

-Fernando, what the fuck do you think you are doing!? Get up already! This is the world cup boys, not those secondhand tournaments you are used to play! - He hear as the trainer's screams were getting closer and closer to him. 

_Oh fuck, well, let's keep running before Sabella ends up with a CVA -Rojo patted his shoulder and incited him to run by his side. He couldn't help but think about how tall was this kid while he ran with him. 

Marcos smiled at him, he felt as this weird sensation on his stomach returned without reasons, but this time it was way stronger; what was happening to him? 

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It was with his knee and it was amazing. Marcos Rojo just scored an impressive goal even when he had the whole Nigerian team surrounding him. Fernando was far away and decided to celebrate screaming in his place, it wouldn't have sense running to where Rojo was, so he would congratulate him later. 

With that he marked the match, it ended 3-2 thanks to Marquitos. He was tired, he had run too much and he wasn't in good shape; he could feel Sabella's gaze on his body, he had the sensation he was disappointing him. He sighed; he would've to improve his performance. 

While celebrating with the rest of the team, he entered to the dressing room yet he couldn't avoid feeling a bitter flavor, he was afraid for himself, even when it was a bit selfish. All of them were patting each other, but he was surprised when he suddenly felt a hand patting his butt... what the fuck?

He turned around quickly just to find a smiling Rojo trying to make as if nothing happened. Gago laughed, he was indeed an asshole. 

-What a goal you scored, Marquitos.

Rojo chuckled. For God's sake he was really slow; it wasn't until now he decided to come to salute him. However he couldn't avoid the light that appeared in his eyes, Gago was tenderness for sure. 

-Thanks bro -And he hugged him. Marcos was much taller than Fernando, so he practically buried him in his chest. 

Fernando felt how his fear was becoming less strong. 

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In the minute 118, Angel scored a goal. Gago had left the football field in the minute 106 so he had to get back in to hug his partners. While he was screaming he felt how Rojo grabbed him by his waist and started to spin him in the air. They couldn't feel happier, and when he put him down, he hugged him with happiness; they were getting closer to finals and to each other.  
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-Pachorra was an idiot when he took you out.

-¿Eh?- Fernando didn't quite understand. Marcos sat by his side and looked at him.

-He shouldn't have put you as replacement, if you were there, we would have won 5-0.

The bigger one laughed with sincerity.

-No, idiot, Biglia is way better than me. Also, I played 10 minutes, just in the end, but anyway I did it.

-It has nothing to do with it. I'd rather play with you than with him.

-It has to do with it. Look, I already got depressed when he told me I wasn't playing as headline this game, but it already happened, and we won. Sabella has everything coldly calculated, if he thinks it is for better, it is. 

The younger one sighed, it was obvious he wasn't in agreement but he had no more arguments to defend himself. He frowned and kept silent until something came to his mind. 

-But Pachorra thinks with the head, he doesn't take in count the heart's part.

Fernando started feeling confused once more.

-What do you mean with that?

-Well... -Marcos smiled- You're so cute you would blind the other team and that would let them disabled to play. - He placed his hand in the other's head and stirred his hair softly. Then he stood up and left.

That left him even more confused, with a situation that only seemed to get worse inside of him. Rojo turned around and said something while resting in the door.

-Get your hopes up; Argentina wasn't in semifinals since 24 years ago. 

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Gago wanted to die, literally, embarrassment was consuming him. It had been an impulsive act, he didn't think about it and he actually did not want to think about it. Why him? He did it in the victory celebration, they had beaten up Netherland in penalties. Romero had been a hero and Mascherano... Uff! If Mascherano hitted his little toe with a wardrobe, it would hurt the wardrobe. Mascherano doesn't use a watch; he decides what time is it. Am I losing the plot? 

So, he had hugged every single member of the team, and he had quickly entered to the locker room, he still wanted to celebrate, but he did not want to do it in the Netherland's team face. It wouldn't be fair.

He had entered because of... well, because of Marcos. He had already celebrated with him, but he couldn't help to jump into his arms and hold him. The younger one grabbed him and started jumping with him. The penalties were just amazing, God, what a victory for Romero. 

Rojo laughed, he was really happy but he was also really close from his partner's neck. The bigger one felt tickles in his body and shuddered. Without even thinking, he kissed him. 

It was a fast kiss, he simply placed his lips on his, a small touch, and it was barely a touch. But he closed his eyes and felt it as it had lasted years. He separated from him, smiling, but Marcos stared at him with confusion. And he released him. 

He didn't do it with any love intention; he was simply celebrating, like Maradona did. Right? Was it so bad?

The rest entered and Rojo changed his face quickly to keep celebrating with the team. But Gago ended up a bit discouraged. Did he just reject him?

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It wasn't fair, it surely wasn't. But, what is fair in life? They played a perfect, beautiful game against a great team. But being defeated is really bitter, it would have hurt less if they were to lose in quarters than having the Cup so close. He felt depressed, defrauded of himself and disappointed. A couple of tears streamed down his face, but something made him realize he should be strong. 

And it's that seeing Marcos crying as if it was the last day of his life wasn't fair, it was breaking his heart slowly. He didn't care if he hadn't talked to him since Wednesday, he didn't care if he himself was dying, he had to cheer him up. 

-Marcos, listen to me -He grabbed him by his cheek and tried to make him look at his eyes. - I don't want you to be sad, don't you dare to feel like that. 

-But what Lucas said its true, what we did mean nothing if we didn't achieve anything...

-You yourself say it, Biglia is an asshole- He forced him to look at him again- You are 24, you are going to play at least two word cups more. You are a defender and however, you are leaving with a goal, which is more than Kun or Palacio did. You are a hero, and you are going to bring success to Lisbon, or to any team you are in. We gave everything, this was just pure luck, Germans are fuckers and they don't deserve this, okay? You are going to fuck those Russians. 

"You are really young to feel like this, you are going to achieve anything you want to, I promise you. We played like never before and we made them suffer; you played like the genius you are, that idiot big nosed, Muller, couldn't beat you in any time. We are big, all of us. Just look at how he put together a disjoint country, we made people unit with their hearts and souls. We made them scream with passion while singing our anthem. We are going with our heads up, Marquitos." 

And that was just too much for the younger man. He wiped his tears, hugged him by his back and he kissed him. But this time he actually kissed him; first softly, searching for support, and then a bit more aggressive, like if he was trying to calm his anger. Gago didn't have to think about it (again) because it felt so right it just couldn't be otherwise, that was what he was waiting for. They separated when they realized that someone could've been watching them, but at least in that case they were lucky, the team was way too centered in the "celebration". 

\- Do you promise me we are going to win the next world cup together?

-No-Gago smiled- Because we already won this one, we do not need any cups, we are champions. 

The younger smiled and let out a couple of tears more. 

-Anyway, I promise you we are going to win again in 2018, but with the cup this time.  
And with that promise Rojo felt better, both of them felt better. Being in second place wasn't dishonorable, not with a rival like Germany. Someday they were going to win them again, they were sure about that.

But Fernando felt another relief, this time a bit different. For the first time he had understood that sensation, which started being a weird feeling in his tummy. A mix of love and pride, and that was what he felt when he saw his partner again. 

They walked away holding hands, this wasn't an ending, this was a beginning, one that was even brighter.


End file.
